


When It's Over, You're the Start

by afropuffchan



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Captain America: The Winter Soldier Spoilers, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-10
Updated: 2014-06-25
Packaged: 2018-02-04 02:40:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1763195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afropuffchan/pseuds/afropuffchan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the Winter Soldier discovers his original programming, and Steve realizes that what remains of a man may be all that he needs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The Winter Soldier moved on silent booted feet as he stalked his target through the streets of the city. The passersby who ran for cover were of no consequence. He would kill her. This was as inevitable as the passage of time, as the rising of the sun. The small device she'd thrown that had disrupted the circuitry of his mechanical arm was merely an annoyance. It would gain her only a moment more of life. The redhead was fast and had obviously been trained well, judging by how she'd struck a hit on him, even if this had only been his goggles. If he hadn't been wearing them, he'd be missing an eye. But it didn't matter. The Asset would find her. 

He would finish his mission because he had never failed in this. This knowledge didn't come from memory, since he hardly had any left to cloud his mind or his judgment. It was bone deep, written upon him like second nature. Like the knowledge of how to wield a rifle, as he raised it to squeeze the trigger, sending a bullet that sliced through the fleeing woman's shoulder. Stricken, she fell to the ground, pressing herself up against a car for cover. He circled silently around nearby vehicles as she scanned the street behind her. The sound of his booted feet hitting the roof of a nearby sedan had her head swiveling in his direction, her red hair flying around her face. The woman's wide eyes held surprise then resignation as he stared down the barrel of his assault rifle into them. 

Out of the corner of his eye, the Soldier caught a blur of movement before the man he'd seen on the bridge was rushing toward him faster than any human he'd observed. His metal hand swung downward, but both the blond and the shield that he raised were able to withstand the force of his blow. Though the Asset kicked him away, the man recovered in time to send the bullets he shot ricocheting away with the metal shield. He continued his attack, needing to complete his mission. The redheaded woman was now somewhere behind his unguarded back. He didn't have time to dwell on whether or not she'd been able to retrieve a weapon to launch her own assault against him, since the blond before him required all of his attention. His handler hadn't told him that this target would be such a problem, that he had strength and reflexes that seemed to match his own. 

As the Asset attacked, the man blocked and then attacked in turn, meeting him blow for blow. The Asset had never fought someone so powerful, so skilled. This was the first time that his talents had truly been required, the only time where he'd had to push himself just to remain on his feet. Something bubbled up into his chest, and he was suddenly able to identify it as exhilaration. _He could kill me_ , came the thought. _He's strong enough that I might not make it back today_ , came another, and somehow there was no anxious disappointment at the prospects of a failed mission. There was only the singing of his knife as it swung down in a deadly arc and the unyielding metal of the blond's shield as it rose up to meet him. 

The Winter Soldier knew that the two of them could do this for hours, and suddenly he didn't want the fight to end. The Asset had never been allowed to desire something for himself, so how could he even know that he wanted this, the pounding of his heart as the two of them spun in their lethal dance, the heaving of his chest as the blond forced him to exert himself to a level approaching his physical limits. 

The Soldier found himself thrown back against the side of a van, the man leaping forward to knee him in the chest, making his knife go flying and his breath rush from his lungs. He recovered, seizing him with his metal hand again, but the blond struck him hard across the face before he kneed him in the belly, the force of the blow sending the Asset to the ground. He rolled smoothly, regaining his footing, but his mask had been lost in the process. The Winter Soldier turned toward the man on the bridge, holding his body in a ready stance, but all the fight seemed to flow out of the other man at the sight of the Asset's face. Emotions that the Soldier was unable to identify warred on the man's features. 

"Bucky?" the blond uttered, saying the name as though it was the answer to his only prayer and the one dream that he'd wanted to become reality.

The Asset straightened, brows knitting together in confusion. As he gazed at the blond, the man became more naggingly familiar by the second. "Who is-" he started before the gears within his mind grinded swiftly to a halt. His expression slid into blankness, and the action before his eyes seemed to play out at one quarter time while he stood frozen in place. Through a haze, the Asset saw the blond's lips move, forming that name again that seemed to reverberate throughout his consciousness. He'd never had a name. The Asset needed no name. But yet, he could hear the blond's voice within his head murmuring the name to him in varying cadences, see his lips wrapping around it in stilted visions. He was absently aware of the STRIKE team rushing forward to apprehend the man from the bridge, along with those who had accompanied him a distance away. The extraction team was also there, trying to herd the Asset toward a nondescript black van, but he didn't budge. He was rooted to the spot by a haunting and strangely familiar feeling that the world around him was wrong in a way that he couldn't place. He had the growing sense that the blond before him a distance away was the answer to a question that he hadn't realized needed asking. 

The Asset ignored the impatient voices of the operatives surrounding him who wanted him to leave the scene due to the watching helicopter overhead. He was distracted by brief, disjointed scenes that passed through his mind's eye. Like standing beside the blond, his rifle a comforting weight in his hands as they watched an approaching train on a mountain pass. The blur of snow-covered rock, the wind rushing past his ears as he fell and fell and fell. The satisfying crack of his knuckles against the face of a young man who he'd pulled off of a thin, smaller version of the blond. Receiving his orders from the blond who wore an odd, colorful uniform before climbing to a vantage point from which he could pick off enemy soldiers with deadly precision. 

"Bucky! Look at me!" the blond man pleaded from where the men surrounding him had pushed him to his knees, and the Soldier could do nothing else but obey. Because he realized that he had always obeyed this man. There was a vision that passed behind his eyes then, of sitting at a table with the blond, of turning toward him to say that he would follow wherever the other man led. He had the sudden knowledge that he had always done so. That he had always been with him. Would always be with him. 

The Winter Soldier raised his bowed head. "'Til the end," he muttered as the words bubbled up into his head from a murky sea of lost memory. A niggling sensation at the back of his mind told him that there was more to the declaration that he'd somehow forgotten, but as the blond heard the words, the man's expression crumpled into grief-filled joy. "'Til the end," the  Soldier repeated as he caught the blond's eye. He said the words now like the statement of fact that they were. He recognized them as the promise he'd made to the only man whose orders he was meant to follow. 

There was a sudden whirr as the Winter Soldier reached for and crushed the windpipe of the man next to him as he attempted to pull him away toward the van. His darting elbow broke the nose of the man behind him while he shot the woman in front of him in the neck, blood spraying in an arc as she futilely clamped down her hand to stop the arterial flow.

Rumlow cursed as he dove away from Rogers, noting the deadly turn of the Asset's gun from the falling corpses of the rest of the extraction team toward those who were attempting to restrain Rogers, his cold blue eyes singing of murder. The Winter Soldier's bullets felled two of the men, and Rogers took care of the others, raising his shield in time to block weapon fire from Rumlow, who had taken cover with others behind the armored vehicle nearby. 

"Contain the Asset!" Brock shouted into the chaos, even as he realized that such a thing was nearly impossible. The number of operatives that they had on hand was too few, especially with Rogers joining in the fray. Something silver lobbed from the Asset's hand headed his way. Rumlow managed to leap away in time to avoid being incinerated along with the unfortunates that stayed near the truck. However, the force of the explosion slammed his body into a nearby SUV. Ears ringing, his wavering vision caught sight of the Captain herding the Asset toward one of the armored vehicles while Wilson covered them with an automatic rifle. The Black Widow brought up the rear, firing off incendiary rounds from one of the Asset's discarded weapons. The vehicle that made to follow them went up in flames like so much kindling. She continued to fire out of the back as the stolen vehicle sped away down the street, tires screeching on the asphalt. Rumlow's last thoughts as he slipped into unconsciousness were of how completely the mission had failed, and of all the different ways that Pierce could kill the messenger, namely him.

  

Speeding away in a stolen STRIKE vehicle that would need to be dumped before they reached their final destination, the small group of operatives loyal to SHIELD made their escape. The driver was still wearing her stolen STRIKE uniform, navigating the narrow side roads like a pro. The man next to her checked the side mirrors for pursuers, weapon at the ready. Maria Hill was in the back of the vehicle with what she thought would be three others. She eyed the man that Rogers had urged up into the armored vehicle uneasily, her eyes drawn to his metal arm. "And when do you intend to tell me who this is?" she asked Rogers. 

"He's with me," Steve told her. "I can vouch for him."

"You can?" Sam asked in disbelief. "I think it should be pointed out that up until a few minutes ago, this guy was trying to kill us." 

"But then he helped us escape," Steve replied.

"Really?" Hill asked, almost incredulous. "So he just decided not to kill you? Why? A sudden change of heart? There's no way that we're bringing this guy to the next location." She eyed the long haired brunet with increasing suspicion despite his relaxed posture. She frowned at how he gazed across at Rogers as though he was the only other occupant besides himself in the back of the van.

"He's not just anyone," Steve insisted. "This is my friend, Bucky," he said significantly, gesturing toward the man in question. "I don't know what they did to him to make him behave like this, but I think that he's starting to come back to himself and-"

"Hold up. Wait," Sam interjected, raising a hand as though he needed a moment to parse the information. "Bucky, as in Bucky Barnes, 'the only Howling Commando to give his life,' Bucky? The 'fell from a speeding train in the mountains to his death seventy years ago' Bucky?' How the hell is he still alive after all this time?" 

"Zola," Steve said without missing a beat. He managed to keep most of the misery off of his face. "A normal person couldn't have survived a fall like that. Bucky seemed different somehow after the rescue, but I thought... I should have realized what had happened to him. I should have tried to look for him, but I was sure that no one could survive it." He looked up into the eyes of the man wearing his oldest friend's face. "I'm so sorry." Even as Steve said the words that came from the depths of his being, he knew that they were shamefully inadequate.

"Who's Zola?" Hill asked.

"A scientist who worked for HYDRA that was trying to replicate the supersoldier serum that Erskine developed." Steve's face fell. "Back during the war, Bucky's unit got captured, and I went behind enemy lines looking for him. I found him in Zola's lab strapped to a table and delirious. Bucky didn't talk much about what had been done to him after we got back to base, but Zola must have used him as a test subject for the serum. It's the only way he could have survived. And then HYDRA got hold of him again somehow after he fell and..." he trailed off. Steve could only imagine the kind of suffering Bucky had been forced to endure as he himself slept the years away under layers of ice. The sinking feeling in his stomach as he gazed at Bucky's blank expression told him that things had been much, much worse than anything his mind could come up with. 

"Look, Steve. I'm sorry for whatever your friend has suffered over the years, I really am," Maria began, "but this information isn't making me feel like he can be trusted. SHIELD is compromised as it is. We can't involve him in anything we need done when his loyalty is questionable, and we can't bring him along with us when he can be compelled to-"

"I'm not going anywhere unless he's coming with us," Steve stated. At the protests he saw hovering on three sets of lips, he held up a hand to wave them off. "I know what's at stake. I do. And if you don't want him involved in our plans, I get it. He can sit it out as far as I'm concerned. Bucky's been through enough as it is. But I can't leave him behind, no matter what's happened to him. There was a time when the only thing I had in the world was Bucky. He's always stood by me, and I won't abandon him now. Don't ask that of me."

The different implications of the conversation around him had the Winter Soldier sitting up at attention. The blond was apparently rather emotionally invested for a handler. But it left him feeling strangely pleased. He was suddenly glad that he belonged to the blond and no one else. "Are you going to send me on a mission?" the Soldier asked, his blank expression shifting into an expectant one.

"No, of course not," Steve told him. "You're not under someone else's control anymore. You can make your own choices now."

The Winter Soldier frowned, considering the words of his handler. The Asset was usually given no choices. But if the blond wasn't going to send him out on missions, then to what end would he be retained? Then a possible explanation dawned on him. "You're not going to send me on any further missions because I've been compromised," he said in a flat voice. "After being captured, I worked for the enemy for an indeterminate period of time." He continued even as Steve shook his head in a negation, his brow furrowing. "Am I going to be put back into cryo until you can determine the depth to which I was compromised?" Sadness flitted briefly across his expression as he lowered his eyes, long hair falling into his face. "Or is it easier to liquidate me since you've found others in my absence that can take my place?" he finished, his voice disturbingly devoid of emotion given the words that he'd spoken.

"My God, Bucky, no," Steve said, his voice laced with horror. He leaned forward to grip the other man's shoulders before sliding his hands up the sides of his neck to cup his face and raise his eyes to his own. "No one can take your place. And no one is putting you back into cryo or doing anything else. I won't let them. I promise," Steve told him in reassurance, willing the other man to believe him.

The Winter Soldier's eyes widened as they met his handler's. He noted the determination held there along with an affection the depths of which made warmth bloom in his chest. He also felt a strange coiling ache in his gut that was oddly pleasant due to the lingering presence of hands on his face and the way that the blond's thumb absently stroked his cheek. "Okay," he answered, his voice light.

Into the ensuing silence, where Steve kept his hands on his friend's face for a moment too long before letting them slide away, Natasha spoke. "It might be the blood loss talking," she said as casually as one can while holding pressure to a bleeding shoulder wound with a handkerchief, "but it might not be such a bad idea to use him." She sighed as both Hill and Rogers began to make protests. "Look, we're on a tight timetable for stopping the Insight helicarriers. We need all the help we can get. From the looks of what happened back there, I don't think his defection was orchestrated from above. Besides," she managed a smirk in Rogers' direction, "Steve seems to have some sway over him. Maybe it's a temporary thing, but I'm not about to look a gift horse in the mouth, so to speak, considering what we still need to get done."

Maria sighed heavily with resignation, shaking her head. "He isn't going to like this at all," she said with the weight of certainty.

"Who isn't?" Steve asked, frowning.

"You'll see when we get where we're going," she replied cryptically.

"So, you're going to send me on a mission after all," the Winter Soldier said in a way that passed as eagerness for him.

Steve looked pained. "Only if you want, Buck. It's fine with me if you pass on it."

The Soldier canted his head to one side. The Asset was made for action, not to think for himself beyond what was required to accomplish a goal. Surely his original handler knew that, but what little he could remember of the blond told him that he'd always been unorthodox as far as handlers went. "I'll do it," he said when he realized that the blond expected a response. 

He watched Steve sigh before reaching out to squeeze his flesh and blood shoulder, a faint smile on his face. "Should have known you would, Buck," he said, using that name again before the truck rolled to a stop and the group exited the back, leaving the vehicle behind.

 

"I need answers, and I need them now," Pierce told his frazzled assistant indignantly as the two of them walked briskly toward the area where the Asset was kept. "At least he got to Sitwell before they could make use of him, but I need to know how both targets slipped through the Asset's fingers, if a delirious underling can be believed. And why it is that a fraction of our guys came back compared to what we sent out." When Pierce entered the room, he was brought up short, turning his gaze from the empty chair where the Asset was supposed to be sitting toward the scientists who milled around nervously. "Where is the Asset?" Pierce asked, indicating the empty chair where the man should be seated with his outstretched hand. 

The scientists looked at each other before one among them decided to fall on the proverbial sword and speak. "He's not here."

"I can _see_ that he's not here," Pierce answered with rising anger. "Where is he?"

"He never arrived at the rendezvous point-"

"How is that possible unless he was too injured to make it there? What the hell happened to the extraction team?"

"He killed the extraction team," a tired voice said from behind Pierce. The older man turned to catch sight of Rumlow entering the room, apprehension written across his face.

"What do you mean he killed them?" Pierce's gaze traveled from Rumlow to the scientist who'd spoken and back again. "Something like this isn't even supposed to be possible. I was assured that his conditioning-"

"How years of supposedly top of the line programming get undone in minutes is beyond me," Rumlow interrupted. "You'll have to ask Rogers how he was able to swing something like that when we catch up to him."

"Rogers?"

"Yeah," Rumlow said, absently rubbing the back of his aching head. "The two of them were throwing down before Cap said something to the Asset that made him freeze and have one of those episodes of his, you know, where he stares off at nothing. It's never happened in the field before, though. He was staring at Rogers the whole time. Then all of a sudden, it was like a light switch got flipped, and our guys were dropping like flies. The Asset killed the extraction team and a dozen and a half or so of STRIKE before heading off with Rogers."

Pierce ran his hand through his hair while he let out a frustrated sigh at the knowledge that Rogers was in possession of the Asset. "We're so close, and the Asset gets compromised on the day that the Insight helicarriers become operational. I'm not letting years of careful planning go to waste. Send more support to the helicarriers. Those have to be what Rogers and whoever else he's rounded up to help him are intending to target. If so, we'll be ready for them."

"What if they bring the Asset into play?" Rumlow asked Pierce in a tone that indicated how no one would be ready for the Asset, no matter how much support was sent.

"Then, he'll be handled," Pierce told him as though this wasn't out of the realm of possibility. "The Insight helicarriers were going to make him obsolete anyway. He was always a liability in a way, despite his skills. It took too much effort to keep him in line, and despite what I was promised about the thoroughness of his programming," Pierce said as he turned to gaze significantly at the team of scientists behind him, "that programming has failed spectacularly. If he shows up, he gets liquidated along with anyone else Rogers conjures up. Simple as that."

"Simple as that," Rumlow echoed, managing to keep at least some of the disbelief out of his voice.


	2. Chapter 2

After Romanov had received medical attention when the group arrived at the underground base, Hill took them down a winding corridor that opened into a more spacious area. She rounded a corner, heading toward a room near the back. The group was brought up short by the sight of a hospital bed on which lay a dead man who gazed at them discerningly with his one good eye.

"Well, I figured that someone couldn't kill you if you were already dead," Nick Fury said to three surprised faces that stared at him over the foot of the bed. His gaze traveled to the alert expression of a fourth. "Or maybe I was wrong about that." The man had been wearing a mask and goggles when he had stalked toward his overturned vehicle, but Fury recognized him for who he was. "Is there a reason that the man who almost succeeded in killing me is standing a few feet away? A good one, I hope?"

"Rogers insists that Barnes is on our side now," Maria answered. "He helped them escape from STRIKE."

"Barnes?" Fury asked, frowning as if in disbelief.

Steve's expression shifted to one of suppressed anger. "I'm surprised you don't already know, since you were aware of what else HYDRA was up to under everyone's noses." Taking in Fury's guarded expression, Steve continued. "So, you're going to lie there and tell me that in the course of your investigation into SHIELD's compromise by HYDRA, that you didn't come across the fact that they'd taken my best friend who I thought had died during the war hostage, and turned him into their assassin?"

Fury was silent for the briefest of moments before responding. "Rogers, I wasn't aware of any information to that effect."

Steve shook his head and smiled unpleasantly. "I really wish I could believe you. But there's something about the organization that I've been working for being a front for the thing I nearly gave my life to destroy that's giving me issues with trust." He gazed at Fury pointedly. "How long did you know that SHIELD was compromised? Did you know while all of you were watching me sleep? When you finally wooed me to work for you when Loki attacked New York? While I was working with STRIKE for the last year or so? When did you intend to tell me-"

"I had suspicions for some time, but I had to be sure," Fury interrupted, adamant. "As soon as I was, I came to you, didn't I? Because you were the one person I knew I could trust to not be in their pocket." Fury watched as Rogers sighed in frustration and turned away. He didn't fail to notice how Barnes' eyes focused on Rogers' form intensely. "You have to know that I would have told you if I'd known about your friend."

Steve turned back to gaze at him with poorly concealed anger. "The thing is, I _don't_ know that, not when you've kept me in the dark before."

The Winter Soldier gazed over at his handler with a watchful eye, noting the blond's irritated disposition. The injured man was being uncooperative during the interrogation. He wondered if Rogers was going to order him to extract the information that the man was reluctant to give. His fingers flexed and relaxed, itching to reach for the knife held inches away from them in its sheath. The Soldier's eyes turned back to Fury while he awaited instruction from the man beside him patiently.

"Rogers, I wouldn't have kept you in the dark, not about something like this." The almost predatory way that Barnes was looking at him now wasn't lost on Fury.

Steve gazed at the other man steadily for a long moment. "Then, I guess I'll have to give you the benefit of the doubt unless I find out otherwise."

Fury nodded, noting how Barnes' posture relaxed somewhat in response to Steve's statement. "Are you looking to bring him in on this?" he said, giving Barnes a significant look.

"I'd rather not," Steve said honestly, "But something tells me that we're going to need all the help we can get."

Fury went over what they needed to accomplish to stop the Insight helicarriers in the event that they failed to stop the launch. After a brief argument, Fury relented and agreed with Steve's plan to dismantle SHIELD along with the serpent at its breast that was HYDRA. Before the group broke up to prepare for what was ahead, the Winter Soldier turned to Steve, asking him where he could procure more weapons. Rogers gazed questioningly at Hill, who relented after a moment. She escorted Barnes out toward the supply room nearby.

After the pair left, Fury fixed Rogers with the weight of his stare. "I don't want to be the one to point this out to you, but you have to know that the man who just walked out of this room isn't your long lost friend." As Steve shook his head in denial, Fury continued. "Whatever they did to him, it couldn't have been the usual brainwashing techniques. Just look into his eyes. The lights are on, but Barnes isn't the one that's home. Whoever's in there now is what they created with the pieces that were left after they finished breaking him down. He's barely human now."

"That's not true. He recognizes me," Steve insisted. "He knows me."

"But who does he think you are, then? Haven't you noticed how he defers to you, how he stands there poised and ready like he's waiting for orders from you?"

"I was Bucky's CO during the war. If that's what he's remembering about me first, well... that's alright for now. All he needs is time," Steve replied, and now it was Fury's turn to shake his head in disbelief. "When this is all over, I'll take him back to New York, to somewhere familiar. It will be good for him, maybe it will jog his memory-"

"Rogers-"

"Or I'll help him make new ones," Steve continued as though he hadn't been interrupted. "He'll get better. All he needs is some assistance. My whole life, whenever I needed someone, Bucky was there. Now it's my turn to be there for him, and I'll do whatever it takes."

Fury was unconvinced. "How are you going to help him when you're not even sure what was done to the man?"

"Then I'll make it my mission to find out what I can."

Fury sighed, realizing that he wouldn't be able to change Rogers' mind. "I still think you're up against something you can't handle, but I hope you're right. But for all our sakes, keep a close watch on him, Rogers."

"I will. There's nothing to worry about," Steve insisted.

A few moments later, the Winter Soldier stood in the doorway, his sidearms replaced and a submachine gun resting against his back by a strap slung over his chest. An assault rifle hung from his flesh and blood hand at his side. "I'm ready for the mission," he told Steve.

Rogers nodded, heading toward him. "Just let me suit up, and we'll get underway."

 

Though they tried their best, they weren't able to stop the launch of the Insight helicarriers. Sam soared up toward one of the large craft that was already airborne while Steve and Barnes fought their way toward the helicarrier that was still on the ground. While Steve mainly incapacitated the people he fought without lethal injury, Barnes seemed to have no qualms about tearing through anyone before him like an unstoppable force. Those that didn't succumb to a bullet fell from the cut of his knife. His friend's behavior disturbed Steve almost as much as it intrigued him as he watched Barnes fight with lethal grace.

After replacing the server blade, the pair made their way up toward the deck of the helicarrier, which was now airborne. They met with more resistance from HYDRA's forces once they stepped foot outside. The Winter Soldier was a blur of movement, throwing a grenade into the HYDRA soldiers' midst and subsequently picking off those still standing before the smoke had cleared. He launched himself into the air as a soldier fired at him utilizing the guns of a nearby fighter jet, rotating his body out of harm's way and heading for cover.

"Sam, how are you faring?" Steve asked over his communicator as he slammed his shield into the face of an approaching HYDRA agent before he kicked another in the chest.

"I got the server blade in," Sam said, static over his com as the wind rushed swiftly by while he fell. He yanked a lever to detach his damaged wings before deploying his parachute. "But I ran into a little trouble. I'm grounded. I won't be able to pull you guys out of there."

"It doesn't look like that's going to be a problem," Steve answered as he watched his friend rip the door off of the jet and snatch the pilot who'd shot at him from his seat. He flung the man using his mechanical arm with enough force that he skidded over the side of the helicarrier screaming. Barnes claimed the pilot seat, gazing over at Rogers patiently. "We'll take care of the last one," Steve informed Sam.

The HYDRA forces that were unfortunate enough to make their way onto the deck of the third helicarrier on their approach met their end by the guns of the jet Barnes flew. After setting down, there were still other agents the pair had to contend with inside before they reached the belly of the ship. Hill sounded into Steve's com, telling him that time was nearly running out.

Trusting the stragglers to be handled by Barnes, Steve burst through the door and ran across the walkway toward the heart of the ship. Steve literally had seconds left before he slid the altered server blade home.

"You did it, Steve," Hill told him, relief evident in her voice. "Now get out of there."

Steve gazed at Bucky where he was standing guard across the walkway. "There isn't time," he said. "You have to fire now."

"But Steve-" came Hill's agitated voice over the com.

"Do it," he urged, knowing that there was no other option.

Rogers had a moment to tell Bucky to brace himself before the Insight helicarriers started firing upon one another. The craft shook from the force of heavy weapons fire. Gripping the railing for all he was worth, Steve eyed Bucky a distance away uneasily even though the man's metal hand had a firm grasp of the railing of the walkway as he crouched there. If they could make it through the initial barrage, Steve figured that there was hope for getting back up to the deck, that maybe one of the craft there would still be fit to fly.

There was a flash and a roar as a shell cut through the side of the hull. A grating screech heralded the twisting of metal before the walkway split in two. Steve found himself thrown on his back to the ground below and unable to avoid the large metal structure that fell on top of him from the ceiling. He panted for breath as the wreckage weighed on his chest and abdomen. He could taste blood in his mouth.

In his peripheral vision, Steve caught sight of Barnes, who had made his way down relatively unscathed to rush toward him. He managed to retain his footing despite how the disintegrating helicarrier lurched to one side as it dove out of the sky.

"Bucky," Steve panted as his friend approached, his breath coming in short gasps. "You've got to get out of here. Just-"

"Not without you," Barnes said flatly in reply, not understanding why a stricken expression crossed his handler's face at the words. He bent to grasp the metal that pinned Rogers. His mechanical arm whined as though it were in danger of breaking while he strained, but then the heavy structure lifted a few inches, allowing Steve to haul himself out from under it. Rogers panted as he lay on the cool metal floor, fire in his gut and chest at being crushed. He experienced a moment of déjà vu when Barnes extended a hand down toward his injured form, giving him a muted look of concern.

The brunet helped pull him upwards, attempting to steady Rogers with a hand at his waist and back. Steve leaned into him as he swayed off balance. He couldn't keep his head from nestling itself briefly in the crook of his friend's neck and shoulder, nor the circling of his arms around Bucky's back. Given everything, it seemed so inappropriate and ill-timed, but Steve was only human. He'd wanted to embrace the other man since realizing who he was after they'd fought, but there hadn't been time. Reluctantly, Steve pulled away, grasping Barnes' flesh and blood hand to lead him from the wreckage. If they circled around, maybe they could find a way to get to the upper level before the rest of the ship came apart.

There was a harsh whine of metal from above them before Steve shoved the brunet hard toward his right. Part of the ceiling crashed nearby, and Steve found himself hurtling backwards out of the rent in the helicarrier toward the Potomac below as the floor under him gave way. He gazed up at Bucky as he hung by one arm from the burning craft, his shocked face growing farther away as Steve fell. While the water was rising up to meet him, Steve had a moment to consider how at least this time, he'd managed to save his friend. But the last thing Steve saw before slamming into the Potomac beneath him was a blur of black and silver from above as Barnes let go of the wreckage to dive after him.

 

Struggling toward consciousness, Steve finally opened his eyes to the sight of a sterile hospital ceiling. He noticed Sam seated by his bed in his peripheral vision. He turned toward the other man with a questioning look before trying to sit up in rising alarm.

"Bucky! What happened? Where-"

"Relax," Sam told him as he pressed him back against the hospital bed. He wore a faint smile. "Your boy is just fine. He's been over there standing watch the whole time you've been here," he said. He indicated where Barnes stood by the door with a tilt of his head in that direction. The man in question split his attention between gazing intently at Steve and turning to peer warily out of the hospital room door. "They say he dragged you out of the Potomac like you were a rather large, wet kitten."

Steve gave Barnes what he hoped was a reassuring smile as he watched him continue to hover near the doorway. "Bucky, why are you all the way over there? Come over here," he told him, beckoning with a hand.

The Winter Soldier was torn between his duty to protect his handler from any and all threats and his duty to obey the man's direct orders. The latter won out after a fleeting internal struggle, and Barnes walked forward as though he was being pulled on a string. He stopped at the other side of Steve's bed, gazing down with an alert expression.

"Thank you," Steve said to him. "It seems like you're always hauling me out of trouble when I get too far in. Even after all this time, nothing's changed between us, has it?" Steve's wistful smile faltered as the other man gazed at him without answering. Steve tried not to let his disappointment show on his face.

Rogers turned his head toward Sam. "Everyone else make it out okay? Natasha, Fury?" he asked.

"Without much of a hitch. Everyone's alright as far as I know," Sam answered.

"Without much of a hitch?" Steve echoed, a sinking feeling taking hold of him. "Did something go wrong? What happened to Pierce?"

Sam winced before answering. "He managed to escape."

Steve closed his eyes and pressed his lips into a thin line, regretting how he'd thrown his head back into the pillow the moment he'd done it. "How?" he croaked, head pounding.

"Pierce was using Natasha as a human shield," Sam explained. "To get away from him, she tazed herself, can you believe it? Anyway, Fury retrieved his weapon to fire off a few rounds. Pierce was hit, but he got away after firing a few of his own. Looks like you're not the only spry old guy around town."

Rogers' expression was pained. "This isn't over as long as Pierce is out there, as long as any of them are out there," he stated.

"They won't be for long," Sam insisted. "Law enforcement and the feds are all over the people with ties to HYDRA mentioned in the files Natasha leaked. And Fury insists he's going to dig up the ones that weren't. We'll find Pierce and everyone else involved."

Steve turned toward Barnes, his expression sad. "I'm so sorry. I thought I was going to be able to take you away from all this when I got out of here. I wanted us to go back to Brooklyn, to the places we used to know that are still around. To make you remember as much as you can, but I can't do that yet. You're not safe with Pierce out there. If he gets hold of you again because I leave it to others and don't personally make sure something's done about him, I..." Steve trailed off, swallowing down the emotion rising up to choke him.

The Winter Soldier gazed down at Rogers, feeling ill at ease in the face of his handler's obvious discomfort. "When you leave the hospital, you intend to find Alexander Pierce and deal with him?" he asked flatly in confirmation.

"Yes, Bucky, I promise you I will," Steve said. "Him and whoever else is left of HYDRA. It's the only way to make sure you stay safe."

"My safety isn't important," the Winter Soldier tried to remind him. The Asset's purpose was to go into harm's way, to accomplish what no one else could. There was no such thing as safety for such a person.

"It is, Bucky," Steve insisted, unable to keep the sadness out of his voice. "It is to me."

"Understood," the Winter Soldier answered after a long moment. It seemed strange to him that one of the goals of the next mission was to benefit his own wellbeing. He didn't understand why Rogers viewed him as so important. The blond reached out to take his flesh and blood hand into his own, giving him a smile laced with concern. At the touch, the Asset was reminded of how pleasant it had been when Rogers pressed close to him on the helicarrier, of the feeling that had welled up in his chest at having Rogers' arms encircle him. He suddenly felt so eager to please this man, to wipe away the distress that marred his face.

The Soldier's fingers tightened on Rogers' instinctively, making the other man's smile broaden. The Asset's eyes softened faintly in response. He would make sure that the next mission was a complete success. The Asset had heard a group of doctors speaking near his handler's room earlier. They'd talked about how with Rogers' accelerated healing, he'd probably be kept in the hospital for only a few days more. The Soldier figured that it would be a good idea to collect the intel he needed for the next mission before his handler was discharged in case the blond wanted to start as soon as he was physically able. He contemplated his options while Sam encouraged Rogers to eat.

 

Brock Rumlow stared absently at the passing lights on the ceiling as his hospital bed was wheeled down the corridor. He was being moved from the ICU this evening since he had been deemed stable and a bed had opened up. Worse for wear, Rumlow knew he had gotten off easy compared to how bad things could have been. Injuries including multiple burns on his face, torso, and arm along with a leg broken in two places were nothing to sneeze at, but at least he avoided being left half dead when the helicarrier had decided to crash into the side of the building.

The transport staff brought his bed to a halt when it neared the nurses' station. The resident that had accompanied him on his way brought his chart to the waiting nurse. He spoke to her briefly before he jotted down a note in the chart. The doctor tucked a long lock of dark hair behind his ear that had fallen into his face when he leaned over.

"You're all set," the resident told Rumlow when he returned to his bedside. "I'm on call tonight, so if you have any problems or questions, just call your nurse and they'll get in touch with me."

"Thanks, Doc," Rumlow told the young man before transport wheeled him inside of his room.

After he was settled in, Rumlow gazed at the pristine empty bed on the other half of the room. At least he didn't have to contend with a roommate just yet with the mood he was in. For lack of anything better to do, he picked up the remote with his good hand and switched on the TV. Rumlow was soon sorry that he had.

The news stations were having a field day with the whole SHIELD/HYDRA fiasco. Pierce's face was on nearly every nightly broadcast as he flicked through channels. The older man had somehow managed to slip away, but not without being injured in the process. Rumlow had a few guesses as to where the man had fled to, likely with an underling or three in tow. He smirked unkindly to himself. Cap and the others were kidding themselves if they thought that all there was to HYDRA was in the files that the Black Widow had thrown to the winds of the internet.

With all the focus on Pierce and other high ranking officials, not to mention the rebuilding of the damage done when the helicarriers crashed, it seemed like some of HYDRA's underlings might squeeze by unnoticed. So far, no cops or former SHIELD members that weren't in HYDRA's pocket had come calling for Rumlow, so he considered himself lucky. It was times like these where he didn't mind getting lost in the shuffle. And if anyone did come looking for him, he supposed that he could lawyer up and play a 'just following orders out of fear for his life' like some of his superiors were doing according to the news.

Shifting uncomfortably against the sheets, Brock's leg throbbed within its cast and his burns ached. He could barely resist the impulse to scratch at the bandage on the side of his face. Irritated by the constant flow of news broadcasts, he switched off the TV in a huff. On the edge of his peripheral vision, he caught sight of someone in green scrubs and a long white coat looming just inside of the doorway. He thought at first that the resident had returned to check on him, but taking a good look disabused him of that notion. Rumlow frantically scrabbled for the call button with his good hand while the figure stalked swiftly and quietly into the room. Brock found the device slipping from his fingers to the floor as metal digits surrounded his wrist to grind the bones together painfully. The man's other hand clamped itself against Rumlow's mouth hard enough to bruise.

"If you try to scream or otherwise draw attention to your room," the Winter Soldier told him, "I will kill you. Nod if you understand."

Rumlow nodded stiffly as he gazed up into the Asset's cold blue eyes. With the way that the man was positioned, Brock was able to take note of the drying bloodstain on the collar of the scrubs the man was wearing that had been obscured by the white coat. The on-call resident's ID tag hung from its chest pocket as the Asset loomed over him.

The Winter Soldier slowly removed his hand from Brock's mouth. His metal hand continued to squeeze Brock's wrist uncomfortably. "I need information from you, and you will give it to me," he told him.

"Who sent you here?" Rumlow couldn't help but ask as he tried to calm his racing heart. "Rogers? You taking orders from him, now?"

"I'm the one that will be asking the questions," the Asset informed him in a flat voice. "I need you to tell me about the hidden HYDRA bases that you are aware of - the number of them, their location, how many operatives are present in each. And I need to know which of them is most likely to be harboring Alexander Pierce."

"Look, I have no idea where Pierce might be," Brock lied. "Besides, I can't tell you anything, you should know that. HYDRA might be exposed, but it's not gone. If I tell you anything, the next thing I know, I'll be on my way to the morgue."

There was a whirring sound as the Winter Soldier's left hand wrapped itself around Rumlow's neck. His other hand grasped the remote to the TV, switching it back on and raising the volume. "You're being uncooperative," he said, "but I will persuade you."

Brock could barely get enough air to breathe, let alone scream, as his fingers clawed uselessly on the metal plates of the Asset's arm. The small, broken sounds Rumlow subsequently made went unheard by the hospital staff at the nurses' station, drowned out as they were by the droning of the television.

 


	3. Chapter 3

On the day of Steve's discharge from the hospital, Sam came to pick the two men up. "My offer still stands, if you change your mind," Sam reminded Steve as he, Steve, and Bucky exited the elevator and walked through the hospital lobby. "I've got enough space at my place if you guys don't mind sharing a room." 

"Thank you, Sam," Steve answered, "but I think it would be better if the two of us were alone for a bit." His eyes slid to Bucky who walked at his other side. Steve had given him his jacket so that the man's metal arm wouldn't attract attention. Barnes' eyes slid over the people they approached and passed on their way out of the hospital, alert and assessing. "I've got to get my buddy here fed and rested properly." Steve continued. "It might be more comfortable for him if it's just me." 

Bucky hadn't been eating properly or cleaned up during Steve's hospital stay. He'd refused to leave the room despite Steve encouraging him to take Sam up on his offer to do so at his place, citing a reluctance to leave Steve unprotected for a lengthy period of time. The man had stayed at Rogers' bedside for the duration of his hospital stay. While Steve wished that his friend would take better care of himself, there was part of Steve that couldn't help being comforted by Bucky's actions. He wanted to view the man's behavior as a sign that the Bucky he knew really was in there somewhere behind the Winter Soldier's cold eyes. He couldn't place a number on how many times that Bucky had stood vigil over him when he'd been a weak and sickly young man. Maybe memories of this were guiding his actions now, Steve thought.

There had been one night during his hospital stay where Steve had awoken from disconcerting dreams to the sight of an empty chair near his bed. As Steve tried to shake off his nightmares, he'd feared for a moment that the past several days hadn't been real, that his friend really was seventy years dead. But moments later, Bucky was crossing through the doorway to take up his usual position. Warm blue eyes met cool ones, and Steve was relaxing once more against the firm mattress. He didn't question where Bucky had been, assuming he'd gone to relieve himself or stretch his legs. 

When they reached Sam's car in the parking lot, Bucky wouldn't let Steve enter until he had checked the car for threats to his satisfaction. He slipped into the rear passenger side seat behind Steve as Sam started the vehicle's motor. Sam chatted with Steve during the ride toward the man's apartment building. He gazed into the rearview when he tried to draw Barnes into the conversation. But the man's eyes were fixed on Steve's form before him, sometimes sliding to his reflection in the adjacent window. 

Sam walked them up to the apartment when they arrived. Steve noted absently how much of the damage he'd done to the building when he'd pursued the Winter Soldier had been repaired. When Steve keyed into the apartment, Barnes was still stalking around the hallway, checking for surveillance equipment, Steve supposed. When Steve managed to urge him inside, Barnes gave the areas within the same treatment. Steve had to admit that he didn't mind, considering that he'd been under surveillance by a compromised SHIELD while in the apartment. But staying there at least temporarily while he formulated a plan of attack for what was to come was convenient. 

"Are you guys going to be okay?" Sam asked. He watched Barnes head into one of the bedrooms to finish his check of the apartment. 

"Yeah, we'll be fine," Steve insisted. "I don't want the trail to get too cold, but Pierce and HYDRA can wait long enough for Bucky to get a meal and a decent night's sleep. Well, as much sleep as he's able to get."

"True," Sam agreed. "Don't start without me on this, though. You'll need all the help you can get going after these guys." 

"I appreciate it, Sam," Steve told him gratefully.

Watching how Steve's eyes kept straying to the room where Barnes lingered, a concerned expression on his face, Sam couldn't help asking, "Are you worried about whether or not he's up to this?" 

Steve sighed. "Maybe. But there's no way I can leave him behind while I run off after HYDRA. Even if I tried, I doubt he'd stay put. And what right would I have to do that anyway? He's got as much a right as anybody to go after these guys after what they've put him through for all these years. But with the Insight helicarriers gone, and a lot of HYDRA's minions either in jail or on the run, Pierce doesn't have many options if he intends to start over." Steve couldn't keep the deep-seated worry off of his face. "Bucky's probably pretty valuable to him now." 

"So what you're really worried about is that Pierce might try to get him back under his control." Sam replied. "How possible do you think that is?" 

"I don't know," Steve confided. "If he had some sort of failsafe in Bucky, some sort of trigger phrase that could accomplish it, he would have used it when he first went missing, especially with how they needed those helicarriers in the air at all costs. But that doesn't mean they won't try to kidnap him and reprogram him again." 

"He's not going to be an easy guy to take," Sam told him. "You've seen him fight." 

"I know," Steve said, concern lacing his voice, "but if they're able to get enough agents, or exploit any weaknesses that they know of, then-" 

"I won't allow it," came the answer from behind them. Steve and Sam turned to where Barnes stood a distance away, gazing steadily at Steve. There was something shining out from those eyes that had been so cold up until now, a strange fervor that Steve wasn't sure he'd ever seen in them. "I won't allow myself to be taken away from you by them again. I know that I don't belong to them now," he insisted. "I belong to you." 

Steve was rendered speechless for a moment, gazing at Sam as though the other man could put the proper response into his gaping mouth. Sam had schooled his expression into one that was carefully neutral, gazing between the two men silently. Turning back toward his friend, Steve grasped for the right thing to say. "Bucky, you don't... you're a human being. You belong to no one but yourself. You're your own person, and-"

"No," the Winter Soldier said calmly, but with the slightest bit of force behind his words. He moved closer as he spoke, his steps silent. "They made me forget when I sat in the chair, but I remember now. I'm yours. I've always been yours." 

Steve stepped closer to him, trying not to show his unease on his features. "Bucky, they... the way that they messed around with your head confused you." He placed a hand on each of his shoulders, drawing them down flesh and blood arm and metal one alike to squeeze reassuringly at his upper arms. "You're my friend. That's what you've always been. My _friend_. I don't own you. Your life is your own."

The Winter Soldier gazed into his handler's eyes. Pierce had never had any qualms at asserting ownership over him, and he was sure the other handlers in the past, whose vague faces flitted through his mind, hadn't either. It had often been drilled into him that he was the Asset and nothing more, that he existed for the will of HYDRA and whoever represented it during whatever decade he was awoken. But despite what HYDRA had done to him, the Soldier knew he existed for the will of only one other, the blond before him. He didn't need to understand anything else.

"My life is my own," Barnes repeated blandly. "I am my own person." He said the words to appease Rogers, not because he believed them. If his life really did belong to himself, then he would give it to the blond anyway, because that's what he'd always done. He didn't need memory to tell him this was true. He could feel it. 

"Right," Steve said, smiling faintly. "It's going to be okay. You're a little mixed up right now, but things will get better," he said, as much to himself as to Bucky, willing them both to believe in the words he spoke. "I'll help you however much you need me to. That's what friends do for each other." 

"Okay," Barnes said after a moment, realizing that his handler was happier with a response from him compared to the silence others had demanded from him. "Thank you," he added. When Steve's smile broadened, the Soldier knew he'd chosen the right words. He would make it a point to learn to better anticipate what the man wanted from him, to earn that smile as many times as possible.

The blond squeezed his flesh and blood arm reassuringly again. "Why don't you get cleaned up?" Steve suggested. "You'll feel a little better afterwards. There should still be towels and washcloths in the bathroom closet. Shampoo, soap and all the other toiletries you need should be in there, too."

"Alright," Barnes answered. "Thanks, Steve," he added after a moment, trying out a more casual tone of voice as well as his handler's name. In his few remaining memories, he'd always referred to the man in such a way, and the blond had responded well to it then.

At hearing the man use his name, sounding so close to his old self, Steve had to swallow past something lodged in his throat before he answered. "It's no problem, Buck. Not at all." He laid a hand on his shoulder wearing a wistful smile before allowing the other man to slip away toward the bathroom. He let out a shuddering breath as he watched Bucky turn the corner to the short hallway, his gaze lingering after the man was out of sight.

"Are you going to be okay?" Sam asked him, concerned as he watched the other man try to rein in his emotions. "I could stick around for a while."

"No, I'm okay," Steve insisted as he turned back toward him. "I'm sure you've got other things you need to do besides watch me worry about Bucky. I'll call you later, though."

"I'm going to hold you to that," Sam said with a raised eyebrow.

"I will, I promise," Steve assured.

Sam bid him a reluctant goodbye as Steve saw the other man out. Heading into the bedroom, Steve picked out some clean clothing for his friend to wear. It would be a little loose on his slighly smaller frame, but it would do until he could get the man his own clothing. Steve couldn't help smiling to himself as the memory of Bucky doing something similar for him rose into his mind. Bucky had loaned him one of his shirts years ago when he stayed over to sleep in. It had hung almost comically off his thin frame, but was comforting nonetheless as he'd slept in it. He shook himself out of his reverie to see how Bucky was faring. 

Steve found Barnes in front of the bathroom mirror when he walked into the room, water running softly into the sink. Bucky appeared to be shaving, except instead of using one of the razors from the cabinet, he'd opted for one of his smooth-edged knives, treating it as though it was a straight razor. He shaved the stubble from his face with a steady hand, using only a bit of soap instead of shaving cream.

"Uh, Buck, that's a little dangerous, don't you think?" Steve noted, feeling uneasy as he watched Bucky draw the knife up his neck. "You didn't want to use a razor?"

"Did it this way in the field when it got too long," he told the blond, gazing at his reflection in the mirror.

"You don't have to anymore, though," Steve informed him. "And these modern razors are pretty good. They give a nice close shave." Steve retrieved one from the cabinet, gazing at Bucky who stood with a quizzical look on his face. "Would you like me to help you?"

Barnes looked as though he was considering, but only for a moment. "Okay, Steve," he answered with a nod.

The blond smiled before pulling up a stool and urging him to sit. He squeezed some shaving cream onto his fingers and lathered Bucky's face with it carefully. Steve tipped back the man's head with a finger under his chin and set to work, rinsing the razor under the water after each pass. Bucky's eyes were on him the whole time, the intense look from them giving Steve an odd but pleasant feeling.

When he finished up, Steve almost asked Bucky if he wanted him to cut his hair as well. But when he thought about the picture that Bucky made while gazing at him through the curtain of hair with large eyes, the question died on Steve's lips unasked. They could take care of that at another time, if it was something that Bucky wanted. 

Steve made sure that Bucky had what he needed for his shower before leaving the other man to it. Bucky watched him go before sliding the shower door closed. He lathered the wet cloth absently with soap before washing himself with it. Usually, he hadn't taken care of such needs himself. There were others who had cleansed him, usually with rough, utilitarian strokes, after he was taken out of cryo and before he was put back in. The Soldier often had to sit on a hard bench, cold and dripping as some assistant dried him off while his handler drilled the information for the next mission into his head. He used to dread being bathed after his task was completed, since it usually signaled that he'd be put back on ice. The memory that rose in his mind made him shiver under the warm flow of water.

But the Soldier didn't need to be concerned about this anymore. There was no cryochamber waiting for him after he stepped out of the shower to envelop him in its cold embrace. His handler - _Steve_ , had promised that he wouldn't be put away like he had in the past between missions. That he'd be at the man's side instead. Something that could pass as a faint smile quirked up the corners of the Soldier's mouth before he pushed away stray thoughts to clean himself with brisk efficiency.

 

While his friend showered, Steve had gone to the kitchen to prepare some food for the two of them. He wasn't sure what Bucky liked anymore, nor what had passed as nourishment when he was with HYDRA, but he figured that one couldn't go wrong with some hearty sandwiches. It had bothered him how Bucky hadn't seemed interested in the food that was given to him at the hospital, eating only enough to meet his basic needs. Steve's body could run on small amounts of food for a period of time due to the serum, but later he'd end up feeling drained because of his body's requirements. If Zola's formula was similar to Erskine's, Bucky was probably the same way. Steve hoped that he could encourage his friend to eat appropriately now that they were in a more comfortable environment.

The ring of the doorbell pulled Steve out of his thoughts. Striding over to gaze through the peephole had Steve smiling faintly before opening the door to Natasha. He greeted her before ushering her inside.

"They televised the majority of the hearing," Steve said, referring to her testimony before members of Congress and the military that he'd seen before he left the hospital. "You did great up there."

Natasha shrugged, smiling faintly. "I'm glad someone was pleased with it. The committee and half the press certainly weren't."

"Sam told me you were thinking about getting away from everything for a while," Steve told her. "When do you think you'll be back?" He wouldn't blame the woman if she disappeared for some time, given how she'd exposed herself in the process of airing both HYDRA and SHIELD's dirty laundry. If anyone deserved a break, it was her.

"I was thinking about going off the grid," Natasha told him. "But now, I'm not so sure. A little birdy told me that you intend to go after Pierce and what's left of HYDRA on your own. It wouldn't sit right with me if I was hiding away somewhere while you were back in the thick of it again."

Steve frowned. "I can't ask you to come along with us after everything you've done already-"

"But you're not asking," Natasha interrupted with a smile, "I'm offering. And you'll need all the friends you can get to watch that broad back of yours."

Steve put a hand on her shoulder. "Thank you, Natasha. It means a lot to me."

"So, tell me," Natasha began with a wry smile, "How have you and Mr. Shared Life Experiences been faring lately?" She looked at him pointedly before scanning the rest of the apartment.

"Natasha, it's not like that at all," Steve insisted. "Bucky and I are good friends - since childhood. There's not much else to it than that."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "So you break through about seventy years of whatever conditioning he underwent by calling him the nickname you had for him-"

"It wasn't _my_ nickname for him. Everyone called him Bucky-"

"And then he takes out two dozen or more agents to save you?" she continued, not letting him interrupt. "That's some friendship. How am I not supposed to get ideas? Especially when you turned down every date I tried to find for you."

"It's nothing like you're thinking," he insisted. "I was just too busy. And I'm about to get even more busy from here on out."

Natasha folded her arms. "I see. So no chance of you giving that nurse who used to live nearby a call before you run off chasing HYDRA?"

"She wasn't a nurse," Steve pointed out, "and there's no way I can get involved with someone right now with everything going on. I can't give a relationship the attention it deserves right now."

"Certain relationships being the exception, though," she teased. Natasha watched Steve sigh and shake his head. "Hey, when you tell me that you're not ready for a woman with a metal piercing, and then start living with a man who has a metal arm, I think I have a right to tease you just a bit," she told him. "But seriously, how is he doing?"

Steve shrugged. "As well as could be expected, I suppose. But there are things that he's done lately, things he's said... Bucky's in there, I can tell. I just need to draw him out. Time will tell, I guess."

Natasha gazed at him steadily but with sympathy. "I don't want to dash your hopes, but you need to prepare yourself for the possibility that he might not come back the way you remember him, if he can come back at all."

"It's okay," Steve told her. "He doesn't have to be the same. I'm not the same man I used to be. I just want him to be... as healthy as he can get. To make a life for himself beyond what HYDRA twisted him into."

Steve frowned in confusion as he watched Natasha's eyebrows shoot upwards suddenly as she gazed at something behind him, an odd little smile on her face. Steve turned around to the sight of Bucky blinking at him through the damp strands of hair that hung in his face while holding the towel he'd dried off on. He was otherwise exposed, not opting to cover himself with the item as someone usually would.

"Where should I put this?" he asked, apparently not bothered by his nudity in front of others.

"Bucky!" Steve said disapprovingly as he moved quickly forward, using his body to block Natasha's view. "You can't just flash a lady like that."

"Don't worry about me," Natasha told him, that odd little smile still intact. "I won't faint dead away. It's 2014 after all."

"I know," Steve insisted as he took the towel from his friend and secured it around his hips. "But he was never like this before. Sorry," Steve said to Natasha over his shoulder.

The Soldier wasn't sure why his handler was so upset. When the scientists worked on him, he'd often been in various states of undress, many times nude, and the people who'd gazed at him with clinical eyes were of both sexes, so he wasn't sure why this was an issue now. But he allowed Steve to usher him into the bedroom to show him some clothes that he could change into.

 

Later on, the three of them sat around the kitchen table eating the food that Rogers had prepared. Bucky ate what Steve put in front of him as though it was a task he had been assigned. Steve was glad that the man was eating, but couldn't help feeling concerned about his behavior. When asked if he liked the food, Bucky gave a positive answer, but Steve got the feeling that it was given more to please him than to be accurate.

"Do you have any idea where to start?" Natasha began after they'd finished most of their meal, referring to the remaining portions of HYDRA. "The FBI and CIA are tackling the bases in this country that were revealed in the leaked files, and Interpol and Fury are on the ones abroad. All forms of transportation are being monitored as well, but as far as I've been able to find out, Pierce hasn't turned up. There have got to be some hideouts that HYDRA has that we weren't able to uncover."

Steve sighed in frustration, drawing Bucky's eyes toward him. "I figured as much. Is there any way that we can get at any of the people they've arrested? Maybe we can get information from them?"

"With the way the government feels about us right now, I don't know if we'll get anyone to play ball with us on this," Natasha admitted. "Maybe we can-"

"There are eight HYDRA bases in the continental United States that were unaccounted for in the files that were leaked," Bucky informed Steve, who raised his head to look at him. "One is here in DC. There are others in New York, Florida, New Mexico, California, and Washington State."

Steve gazed at him in surprise. "How do you know this? They wouldn't have told you, so-"

"I found out through my interrogation of STRIKE leader Brock Rumlow," Bucky told him.

"Where did you find him?" Steve asked. He frowned. "When did you even have time to do this?"

"He was in the same hospital as you were kept with multiple injuries," the Soldier told him.

"Did you-" Steve tried to ask. "Is he still alive?"

Bucky cast his eyes to the side briefly as if attempting to remember. "He appeared to still be breathing when I left his room," he said finally.

"How did you manage to interrogate him in a hospital of all places?" Steve asked, his hands splayed out palm up in front of him on the table. "How were you not noticed? Did anyone else get hurt?" Steve shook his head, bowing it before he ran his hands backward through his short hair. "I'm not sure if I even want to know the answer to that."

At his handler's words, the Soldier closed his lips on his response, keeping it to himself. He didn't understand the blond's discomfort. He'd assumed that the man would be pleased with him. Whether during the course of a mission or while collecting the intel for one, collateral damage was never a consideration unless it attracted undue attention that would jeopardize the success of the mission as a whole.

The Soldier watched his handler's jaw work for a moment before the man raised his head to address him. "Look, I'm glad that you were able to find out what we need to know. And I know that you must want to get back at them for what they did to you. They deserve whatever is coming to them. But don't go off on your own, alright? HYDRA might try to capture you again, and I don't want you to get lured in by them because you're looking for revenge."

The Soldier frowned. "I wasn't looking for revenge," he said, unsure why his handler was confused on this score. "I was gathering intel for the mission."

Steve frowned before his face went blank as he remembered back to when he'd first awoken in the hospital. He recalled Bucky's focused look when he'd told his friend that he'd find Pierce and dismantle what was left of HYDRA. "You thought I was giving you orders," Steve said not as a question, but a realization. Bucky wasn't seeking retribution for what HYDRA had done to him. Even more horrifying was that the look on Bucky's face showed that he didn't have a grasp of how to even apply the concept to himself. He was simply taking everything Steve said as instruction. Thinking back to the past few days, Steve realized that even things that he'd said merely as suggestions to Bucky had been treated as tasks to be followed as though the man had no will of his own. It was difficult for Steve to reconcile this with the headstrong friend Bucky had been while the two of them grew up.

 _The lights are on, but Barnes isn't the one that's home,_ Nick Fury's voice rose in Rogers' mind to torment him. Bucky's eyes were on his face, expectant, and as Steve met his gaze, he realized for the first time that he'd only seen what he'd wanted to behind his friend's stare. Steve shook his head. No, this was programming that could be undone with aid and time. After this was all over, he'd get Bucky sorted out. Fury hadn't been right. None of this was evidence that his friend was gone. It wasn't.

"It's okay," Steve told his friend as though he was the one who needed to be comforted and not himself. "From now on, we'll talk about things more before you go do anything, make sure you understand." Steve reached out to place a hand on Bucky's right shoulder, squeezing. "I know you're just remembering our time back during the war, but everything I say to you isn't an order, alright, Buck?" The smile Steve wore was strained.

"Alright, Steve," the Soldier replied automatically to appease him.

Steve's smile faltered at the man's flat tone of voice. It slid away entirely at the sight of Natasha's thoughtful but closed off look from where she sat across the table.

 


End file.
